Mr Monk and the Head Injury
by Len
Summary: Monk is injured on a case, and wakes up with a whole new view on life. Unfortunately for Sharona, this new view seems just as likely as the old one to drive her crazy.
1. At The Crime Scene

Mr. Monk and the Head Injury

By Len

Rated: PG-13

Spoilers: Up to 'Twelfth Man'

Notes:  This fic was initially sparked by a comment made by April on the Monk_and_Sharona Yahoo! Group.  Thanks for letting me run with it, April!

More Notes:  Don't worry, I know this entire idea would be insanely implausible in real life.  But it makes for darn fun writing!

Summary: Monk is injured on a case, and wakes up with a whole new view on life.  Meanwhile, Sharona is faced with the discovery that sometimes when you finally get what you want, it's not so perfect after all.

"Hmm," Adrian Monk said, tilting his head one direction, and then another.  He stooped suddenly.  "Now that's…interesting."  He stood again, shifted uncomfortably inside his jacket, and wandered off a little further down the path.

Captain Stottlemeyer glared at his back.  "_What_, Monk?  What the hell is so interesting about that damn stoop?  Monk?"  Adrian didn't answer, he was busy pacing something off.  "_Damn_ it," Stottlemeyer repeated.  "We're down to the wire here and Monk's decided to take up funny walks."

Sharona, however, was not as impatient.  "Give him a minute," she said confidently.  "Just a minute."

As they watched, he crouched again, looking intently at a crack in the sidewalk.  Finally, he stood, paced back to his original spot, and froze. 'He knows what happened,' Sharona thought.  A smile spread across her face, and Adrian met her eyes from across the crime scene and answered it with one of his own. 

"It was Robert Hartwell," he said.  

"Hartwell?  Monk, Robert Hartwell left for Bermuda two days before the murder took place," Stottlemeyer said.

"I know.  But it was him.  Think about it: Robert Hartwell was the only one who knew for certain that Marie would be alone, that no-one would discover her body for several days, and that there would be something to remove the evidence _for_ him."

Lieutenant Disher frowned.  "What would do that?"

Suddenly, Sharona realized what he was getting at.  "The sprinklers!"

"The sprinklers," Monk affirmed, moving to stand next to her.  "The wire was tied at the bottom of the handrail – where it would be sure to hold, and not rip the whole thing off – and strung across the path to the tree.  He knew Marie would be riding the motorcycle down that path – she always did.  So the wire killed her, and looked like a garroting and mugging.  Meanwhile, the tell-tail bloodspatter was washed away by Mr. Hartwell's sprinklers, and the wire was easy to get rid of once he arrived – appropriately frantic – home again."

Stottlemeyer looked back across the path, to the tree, to the handrail, and finally back at Monk.  He nodded in understanding.  "He killed his own lover because she was in the way of his career."

They all took a moment to let this sink in.  Sharona thought that hearing the sounds of birds chirping and nearby traffic flowing as usual was almost obscene, standing as they were at the sight of such a cold-blooded murder.  She sighed and put a hand on Adrian's arm.  He looked at her questioningly.

"Good job," she said.

"Oh, it was nothing," he replied.

"Okay.  Never mind, then."

"_Shar_—oh.  You were teasing me again, weren't you?"

"Yeah, Adrian."

He appeared to consider this for a moment.  "Alright.  Just so we're clear." 

Sharona grinned at him.

"Sorry to interrupt this…" Stottlemeyer said.  "But we still don't know where Hartman is now."

It was Sharona's turn to answer.  "Try the graveyard."

Disher immediately went to the car to call for back-up, leaving the other three behind on the steps.  "We'll meet you over there," Sharona told the Captain, starting towards the street.  "C'mon, Adrian."

He followed obediently, carefully stepping over the cracks and avoiding the chewing gum spots on the cement.  "I can't wait to see the look on Hartman's face when he realizes you figured it out.  The bastard deserves what's coming to him," Sharona commented.

"Yeah," Adrian agreed.  He was started to open the passenger-side door, but stopped to look over the car roof at his friend.  "You know, you're the one who figured it out.  You remember what you said when we first saw this place? You said, 'Boy, his lawn sure is green.'  You said you bet he was exceeding his water allotment.  That was the key to this whole case."

"Oh…" Sharona said softly.  Her eyes went a bit swimmy for a moment, and she jabbed her key blindly at the driver's side lock.  Adrian rarely – _very_ rarely – gave compliments to anyone.  But when they were sincere, well, just look what they did to her.  She wanted so badly to be good at this whole detecting thing, but it was only times like this that Adrian showed he understood.  "Well, you know me…" she said lightly, sniffled, and jabbed at the lock again.  It hit the lock this time; slid home, turned about three degrees, and then…stuck.  She blinked, and tried again.

"I _don't_ believe this."

Adrian frowned across at her.  "What's wrong?"

"This!  The stupid key is stuck in this stupid lock."

"Did you try turning it the other way?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Yes, Adrian, I tried turning it the other way.  It's stuck."

"Did you jiggle it?  Because sometimes keys will jiggle."

"Not this key.  It's stuck.  God, I hate this stupid crap car!"

"Did you—"

"Look, Adrian – if you have an idea, you come over and try it.  Because I can't get it to budge."

With a small sigh and a shift of his shoulders, he headed around the car.  Sharona took a step to the side and crossed her arms over her chest.  Adrian looked at her and swallowed.  "Right.  I'll just…have a look."

The keys were indeed stuck tight.  He tried to turn it, tried to jiggle it, and finally leaned over to look closely at it.  "Gum," he said.

"What?"

"Chewing gum.  Someone put chewing gum in the lock."

"_What_!"  Sharona stared at him.  "What kind of sick…never mind.  I'm calling Stottlemeyer.  Maybe he'll be able to swing around and pick us up."

She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and moved to the sidewalk to wait.  Monk, of course, was unable to let the keys just…hang there, and tried to remove them from the sticky mess without actually…touching…something.

Both he and Sharona were so distracted by what they were each doing that they never saw car accelerate towards them.  They never noticed the color or got a look at the driver.  Because just as Adrian finally pulled the key-chain loose, it clipped him with its front fender, sending him flying over the hood of Sharona's Volvo.  He hit the parking space in front of Sharona with a sickening thud, and lay still.  

"_Adrian_!" Sharona screamed.

The car that struck him rounded the corner, tires squealing, and disappeared.  

To be continued…


	2. At The Hospital

**~Chapter Two~**

Sharona sucked in a shaky breath that was quickly threatening to become a sob.  She couldn't believe this was happening.  Adrian was lying there on the gurney, unresponsive while the paramedics stuck needles in his arms and flashed lights in his eyes.  It was a nightmare.  This wasn't supposed to happen to Adrian.  Adrian bounced back from physical injury.  He always had.  Bomb going off in his face?  No problem!  Being run down by a psycho doctor in a truck?  He walks it off!

Run down…oh, God.

He wasn't going to pick himself up, dust himself off, and walk away from this one, Sharona thought.  And even though that she _knew_ he would freak when he woke up and realized what she was doing, she picked up his hand – the one that wasn't scraped and bloodied – and held it in both of hers.  As the ambulance rattled through the streets, sirens screaming, she focused on that hand, certain that Adrian would be okay if for no other reason than to be pissy and ask her for a wipe.   

It was about six minutes later when the paramedics threw open the doors of the ambulance and wheeled the gurney inside.  Sharona held on to his hand as long as she could, until an E.R. doctor asked her to leave.

She watched until Adrian and his medical entourage disappeared from view, and then numbly sat in the waiting room, staring at nothing.

~*~

It was some time later – forty-three minutes, Sharona clinically noted – when her cell phone rang.  She cursed at it – it had completely broken her concentration.  She'd been trying to remember the car that had hit Adrian, but was unable to think of anything at all.  She hadn't seen it, she'd only seen Adrian, hitting the ground.

God, she didn't think she'd ever be able to get that image out of her head.

"Yeah?" she said, finally answering the chirping phone.

"Sharona – where the hell are you?" Stottlemeyer's voice asked angrily.  "We waited for damn near fifteen minutes like _idiots_ before we finally gave you up and arrested him.  We could have used you two there – you know how Monk is.  He'd have a confession out of him right then.  But no, we show up, Hartman calls his lawyer, and now he's not saying a word—"

"We're—he-he's in the emergency room," Sharona cut in.  There was silence on the line.

"What?" he said, much more quietly this time.

"Adrian.  Adrian's in the – with the doctors.  We were just getting ready to go, and my keys stuck, and he stood there on the street—there was a car."

"I'll be right there," he said, and hung up.  

Sharona went back to staring at the wall.

When the doctor finally emerged from the back, Leland and Karen Stottlemeyer had already arrived, along with Benjy who had been brought by Sharona's sister, Gail.  Benjy watched his mother with solemn brown eyes.  For his sake, she was trying to keep it together, but she couldn't help but jump to her feet when the doctor appeared.

"Well?" she demanded.

The doctor smiled.  "Your friend is awake and he's going to be fine.  He has a minor concussion and some cuts and bruises, is all."

"Minor?  He was unconscious for, like, half an hour!"

"And because of that, ma'am, we're going to keep him here overnight for observation, just as a precaution."

"Oh, he's going to love that," Stottlemeyer muttered.  

"Can we see him?" Benjy asked.

The doctor smiled down at him.  "Absolutely.  Go in a couple at a time, and don't be too noisy.  I'm sure he has one heck of a headache."

Without discussion, the group let Sharona go first.  She followed the doctor to Adrian's room, talking the entire time.  "…and he doesn't like milk.  Or his food grouped together.  He doesn't have a roommate, does he?  Because he doesn't really like being around sick people, so if you could just…"

"Here we are," the doctor announced, cutting her off.  "You folks have a nice day."

This was answered by unintelligible murmurs, and everyone turned back to look at Sharona.  Who was just standing there.  

"Mom," Benjy prompted, giving her a little push.

"Right.  I'll just…go in then."  She stopped, took a deep breath, and breezed into the room.

It was a nice, neat room, sparsely decorated.  There was an IV pole next to the bed, and on the bed was Monk.  He appeared to be dozing.  

"What kind of nurses do they have in this place, anyway?" Sharona murmured.  They weren't supposed to let him sleep with a concussion.  So, very gently, she put a hand on his arm and shook him awake.  "Hey, Adrian."

He cracked his eyes open, groaning.  "Augh.  Hi, Sharona.  Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?"

Of all the things for him to want after waking up, it would be that.  Why not a simple request, like a year supply of Lysol or something?  Sharona looked away from him as the dam she'd held against her tears finally burst.  "No," she wailed.  "I'm sorry, I tried to think back and remember, but I didn't _see_ anything.  Just you, lying there.  I thought you were dead.  I'm sorry, I should have looked.  I didn't even see the color—" She stopped as Adrian picked up one of her hands in his.  

"Sharona, I was joking," he said.

She stared at him in surprise.  "What?"

"A joke.  You know – 'Ha, ha, funny'?" He handed her a tissue and she mopped her eyes.

"A joke?  You made a joke? About this?  Adrian," she said, suddenly far more concerned.  "Are you feeling okay?" she looked down at their joined hands, feeling this day slip further and further into surrealism.  

Adrian shrugged, then winced.  "Well, you know….I've been better."

She seemed to accept this.  "Well, just so you know – I asked the doctor about this room, and he said you won't have to worry about germs, because those sort of patients go in a separate area of the hospital.  This is injury only."

"I'm not worried.  Hey – if I do get sick, I'm already in a hospital.  There's no better place to be, right?"

Sharona dropped his hand and stood back, glaring at him.  "Adrian, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Monk looked at her, completely lost.  "What?  _Shar_—"

"Don't you '_Sharona'_ me!  You make jokes, you don't care you're in the hospital…" she leaned a little closer and dropped her voice.  "…and what would you say if I sneezed on you, right now?"

"Erm…bless you?"

She threw her hands up in the air.  "Argh!  Sometimes, Adrian, I just don't get you!"

"Sharona, sweetheart, maybe you aught to go home and lie down a for a little bit?  You're obviously upset…"

"Oh, so you want me to leave now?  You don't want me here?" Sharona asked in disbelief.

"That's not what I—"

"You know what?  Fine.  Benjy wants to see you.  So do the Captain and Karen.  I'll wait outside."  She strode back out of the room, wiping the drying tears off her face.  Honestly, she thought, the man drives me absolutely crazy.

"Benjy," she told her son, "Mr. Monk would like to see you.  Okay?"

Benjy smiled the first smile Sharona had seen on him all day, and headed inside.  Meanwhile, his mother paced back and forth outside the room.  

"…goes ahead and acts like nothing's wrong.  Sure, joke all you want, I was only worried half to death, but does it ever matter…?" she muttered furiously.  

"Sharona?" Karen Stottlemeyer asked.  "Are you okay?"

Sharona waved off her concern.  "I'm fine.  Adrian's trying to make me as nutty as he is – but that's nothing new.  Argh!"

Karen looked at her suspiciously, but went back to sit next to her husband and left Sharona to her mutterings.  

It wasn't until later when Sharona was alone in the hallway that she realized that Adrian had not only voluntarily touched her, be he'd called her 'sweetheart'.  She stopped dead, all thoughts of hit-and-runs, mysterious cars, and killers flying from her mind.  "It's happened," she said to herself.  "I've finally lost it."

To be continued….

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